


Tight

by runsinthefamily



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Claustrophobia, F/M, Hand Job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on the ... well, just assume that all my stuff is from the kmeme, it'll save time.</p><p><i>Someone did a really nice fill with Anders being claustrophobic after his stint in solitary, and dealing with that in the Deep Roads. It was a lovely fill.</i></p><p><i>Now let's smut it the hell up.</i></p><p>Smut!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight

Just another day in Darktown - a broken arm, three cases of fever, and poor Primrose with the usual excuses about having fallen down the stairs. One of these days Anders was going to sic Hawke on her worthless drunk of a husband.

He was just finishing with Prim's black eye when the clinic doors burst open and Hawke ran through, her fine black hair more disheveled than usual, her blue eyes wide and panicked. "Anders!" she said, and ran across the floor. "Templars," she babbled, "right behind me, you have to get out ..."

Justice leapt up inside him, and he struggled for control. Too many innocents here, too many ways for it all to go wrong ...

"Too late," said the sailor with the newly-healed arm. "Here they come down the steps. D'you have a backdoor, healer?"

"It collapsed last week," said Anders. "There's a nook left I suppose but Hawke ..."

"It'll do," she snapped, took his elbow, and hustled him back into the rear of the clinic.

"Hawke, I can't, I ..."

"Let us in!" Only one kind of person had that self-righteous resonance, made tinny and inhuman by the reverb inside a full helm. "A wanted apostate has been spotted in this ... hovel."

Hawke kicked past the rubble and the fallen timbers into the damp, cold confines of the tunnel. There was a bend to the left, and then a pile of rubble, filling the tunnel from top to bottom. "There," she muttered, and dragged him along the wall, past the first fallen rocks, and into a tiny cubby where two timbers had formed an X against the wall. It was barely big enough for the two of them, and almost completely dark. Hawke crowded him against the wall, and laid two fingers against his lips.

WE ARE TRAPPED. WE MUST GET OUT.

No. This was not the Tower, this was not that cell. He took a deep, trembling breath, and pulled the smell of Hawke into his lungs. Steel polish, sweat, the mint and rose oil she put in her bath. Her warm weight pressed against him, familiar and steadying.

TRAPPED, insisted Justice, but it held less conviction.

He could do this. The templars were ransacking the clinic, from the sounds of things, but he knew that his patients would never give him up.

"Where does this go?" Booming voice, too close.

"It's a collapsed tunnel, ser," said Primrose. Her voice was tremulous. "We closed it after the last chokedamp."

"Hmm," said the Templar.

Hawke shifted against him, drew a knife oh so carefully from its sheath, and then stepped away.

ALONE. ABANDONED. TRAPPED!

Blue light began to swell in the tight space, revealing just how small it was, just how narrow and low and pressed in and his breath hitched, Justice pushed ...

And then Hawke was back, her face shocked and fearful in the blue light. Anders reached out like a drowning man and pulled her into his arms.

"Anders, what ..." she whispered.

"Don't leave," he said, pressing his face into her hair. "I can't ... it's the rock, the ... it's too small in here."

"Shh," she breathed, her hands coming up to his back. "Quietly, love."

"We will stay for a while I think," said the Templar. "In case the apostate shows himself."

"I tell you, ser ..." the voices grew fainter, heading back out to the main area of the clinic.

"I can't," Anders muttered in Hawke's ear. "Marion, I can't, I'm sorry. Don't ... don't let me hurt any of my patients, please." The blue glow was becoming more intense as his pulse rose, as his throat constricted.

Abruptly Hawke fisted her hand in his hair, pulled his head down, and kissed him. Justice faltered, the way he always did when Anders and Hawke were intimate. Hawke pulled back, surveyed his face, and then hauled him back down again, ravaging his mouth with a ferocity he'd never felt from her before. For the first seconds it was only surprising, and then she made a tiny, hungry sound against his lips and a quick clutch of need gripped his belly.

There was no room to maneuver in here, barely enough room for the two of them to stand. All they could do was kiss and grab and press against one another. Hawke tried to raise one leg along his side and banged her knee against the wall. Anders attempted to bend to her breasts and could only make it to her collarbone, which he bit in frustration. She smothered a cry.

"Shhhh," he said into her ear, and then licked the lobe.

"Maker's cock, Anders," she whispered back and then laughed softly.

He realized he was grinning into the dark, blue glow completely doused. "You'd better keep me distracted," he breathed. "Who knows how long we'll be in here."

"Mmmm," she murmured against his neck. "Options are ... limited." She twisted her shoulder, took a quarter step sideways, and slid her hand into his robes. Her cool fingers traced his ribs, ghosted along his waist, and then dipped lower. "Ah."

He dropped his head against her shoulder as she gripped his cock firmly and began to ever so slowly stroke.

He went from half-hard to fully erect in about three passes of her clever, dextrous fingers.

"Oh, my," she said, gently mocking. "How very eager of you, Anders."

"I'll show you eager, sweetheart," he murmured, and slipped the middle buckle of her vest, leaving a gap just wide enough to admit his hand. He cupped her left breast, slid his thumb up, and pinched her nipple. Lightly as first and then applying pressure the way he knew she liked.

Her breath steepened in his ear and then she was wriggling against him, wrestling his coat one-handed. A buckle jingled as it came undone and they both froze, waiting.

No one came.

Hawke recovered first, pushing his coat aside impatiently and pushing her free hand down the back of his pants to grab his ass. He bit his lips shut on a gasp as the pad of her middle finger descended the crevice between his buttocks and pressed firmly against his anus. He was most definitely falling behind here.

A few minutes of hurried fumbling while she relentlessly drove his hips back and forth and then he had her vest undone, her breasts gloriously unfettered. He licked his thumbs, drew her nipples to taut little pebbles, and then thrust his right hands down into her sex.

She was wet as Andraste's tears and twice as hot. Her hands lost their maddening coordination as he played his middle finger across her clit. Abruptly she pulled both her hands free and grabbed his left hand off her tit.

"Grease," she hissed.

"Fuck, yes," he breathed, and conjured up a slick across her palms.

Down her hands went.

He couldn't concentrate anymore. All he could do was frantically twist her nipple and press the heel of his other hand against her wet curls as she humped it in time with the smooth, quick tugs at his cock and and the pumping of her index finger up his ass. Her mouth was at his ear and she was spewing the worst kind of filth into it, things that would have made Isabella blush but only made him hotter.

Her voice faltered, grew ragged. The movement of her hips and hands became erratic. He seized the wrist of the hand wrapped around his cock and worked it roughly, harshly, even as she spasmed against him, moaning his name.

He came, mouth open, eyes shut, back arching until his shoulderblades pressed against the rock wall so close behind him.

They subsided, sweaty and sticky and cramped, pulling hands away from one another and easing awkwardly bent limbs.

"Oh, Maker," she said against his chest. "That was ..."

"Huhhm," he agreed.

"Go again?" He could feel her smiling into his collarbone.

"I keep telling you, woman, even a Grey Warden needs a few minutes to recover," he complained.

"Mmmm, I guess I'll just amuse myself while I wait, in that case," she said and began to lick the sweat off his chest. When she hit a nipple, he drew in a shaky breath and felt desire began to stir again.

"Hawke? Where are you - oh." Warm firelight fell into their tiny hiding spot. Isabella smirked at them. "Well that's one way to keep the Templars away, I suppose. I'd ask if there was room for one more but there's barely room for the two of you." Her eyes raked them up and down. "Looks like you made use of every inch. Bravo!"

Hawke let out a laugh and tugged her vest together.

"Thank you, Isabella," said Anders patiently. "Please go away now."

"Aw, I was hoping to see a demonstration," she pouted. "I haven't seen such cramped quarters since I spent an evening in a wardrobe with half an Antivan acrobat troupe."

"Shoo," said Hawke, and pressed against the wooden beams to let Anders step out first.

"Did you get rid of the Templars?" asked Anders, rebuckling his coat.

"No, it was Sebastian. I think you're being a bad influence on that boy, Hawke. Keep it up." Isabella dropped her gaze to Hawke's cleavage, bit her lower lip in lascivious appreciation, and then sauntered back up the tunnel.

"Alright?" asked Hawke. She finished buckling her vest, head tilted a little to meet Anders's eyes.

"You never cease to amaze me," he said and pulled her in for a kiss. She wound her arms around his neck and hiked a leg up to his waist. He took hold of her knee and pulled, bringing her groin against his, letting her feel his resurgent interest.

"You'll have to lie low for a while," she said. "In case they return."

"I can think of a few places to lie in," he said. He slid his hand from her knee up the back of her thigh, fingers brushing - oh Maker - the damp spot her orgasm had ...

There was a clatter of armor and Sebastian burst around the corner, wild-eyed. "Hawke! Haw - " he broke off at the sight of them, turned bright red, and made an immediate about-face. "Isabella said - Hawke, I - never mind." He marched away again, back poker-straight.

"That lying, loose, Riviani trickster," muttered Hawke. "One of these days I'm going to ..."

"Take me home and show me a night of debauchery to put her friend fiction to shame?" asked Anders hopefully.

Hawke laughed again, loud and carefree. "Whatever you want, love. Whatever you need."


End file.
